Legally Bound (2 page)

For the most part, the rumor worked in her favor.
Given she was a control freak concerning her work, pretending to get off on
bossing men around didn’t seem to surprise people. In fact, they praised her
for it. Donavan was the only person who had ever questioned the fib. Somehow,
he sensed the real her. Eve was certain that was the primary reason she was so
attracted to him. It was also the reason she needed to be very, very careful
around him.

“So, I suppose you’ll be bringing…Alfonso,”
Donavan rolled his eyes, “to the masquerade this weekend.”

Eve cringed. Alfonso was an unexpected result of
the Mistress rumor. Some submissive men were harder to shake than Eve initially
anticipated. The more she pretended to be the cruel Mistress who wanted
absolutely nothing to do with him, the more Alfonso clung to her.

“I hadn’t planned on attending the masquerade. If
I do go, it’ll be solo. That is unless you’d care to be on the end of my leash
for the weekend,” she added, playing up her fake Mistress status.

Laughter danced in his eyes. He leaned closer.
His mouth ever so lightly brushed her ear. “Even if I believed your story about
being a Mistress, which for the record I don’t, there’s about as much chance of
me being on the end of your leash as there is of you winning this case.”

At the stream of warm breath teasing the inside
of her ear, her nipples drew tight beneath her blouse. Every nerve in her body
tingled and hummed to life. Her eyes flitted open and closed several times
before a sudden movement at the end of the hall sharpened her pupils and
brought her back to reality.

Marcy. Her assistant. The petite blonde flashed a
video cassette tape and then a wide toothy grin. She had the tape.

Straightening, Eve eased back from Donavan and
looked him in the eye. “You really don’t think I can win this case?”

He gave a noncommittal shrug. “Not without a
miracle. The only way I see you walking away with a win is if you’re holding
onto a key piece of evidence until the final act which wouldn’t make sense, you’d
have used it already.”

He was right. If she had the tape before the recess
she would have used it, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Maybe I’m not as predictable as you think.”

“I never said you were predictable,” he
countered. “But you’re logical. There’d be no reason to drag out a case for a
week with an ace up your sleeve.”

“Not necessarily true. Maybe I’m allowing your
client enough rope to hang herself because the end result will be more
satisfying that way.”

“That’s a big maybe.”

At the challenge, Eve lifted her chin a measure
while the wheels in her head nearly flew off their tracks. This could be her
chance to finally put Donavan’s doubts about her being a Mistress to rest. “Care
to make a friendly wager, then?”

Donavan studied her thoughtfully. “I’ve been
known to make a bet or two. What did you have in mind?”

As if deep in thought, Eve tapped one freshly
manicured fingernail against her lips. She wasn’t however. She knew exactly
what she wanted.

“All right, if I win this case, we will attend
the masquerade together—ah,” Eve wagged her finger when he tried to interrupt. “But
you
will be
my
slave. You’ll peel me grapes, rub my feet, and if
you’re lucky I might just let you fan me with one of those giant feathers.”

For the first time in ages, Eve saw Donavan
hesitate. It was only for a split second but it was there. Perhaps the stakes
were just a bit too high for him.

“And if you lose?” he asked, intrigue evident in
his tone.

There was no chance in hell of her losing now
that she had the tape. Although it was underhanded to make a bet with an ace in
the hole, he would never find out. No harm. No foul.

“If I lose, I’ll willingly submit to you for the
entire weekend.”

His eyes narrowed and Eve’s pulse skipped a beat.
Could he smell the bet was fixed? Did she look too eager? Too confident? Were
her lips twitching and giving her lucky ace away?

Her throat dried further as Marcy proudly
clutched the tape to her chest and marched toward them. If Donavan spotted that
cassette, he wouldn’t enter into a wager that could land him on his knees
without seeing what was on the tape first. She needed his answer. Now.

“What do you say, Carver?”

With his scorching gaze hot enough to melt the
buttons clean off her ivory blouse, Donavan scanned her from head to toe. He
brought his eyes back to hers. “You got yourself a bet, counselor.”

As they shook to confirm, his large hand
swallowed her smaller one and she wondered if he could feel the rapid pulse
throbbing through her fingers.

“See you in court then.” Eve casually broke off
their handshake and anxiously waited until Donavan disappeared back inside
conference room B before bolting full speed toward Marcy.

“Oh God, sorry I’m late, boss. I got here as soon
as I could,” Marcy said, out of breath.

The moment the sleek black cassette touched Eve’s
fingers, a wave of triumph rushed through her. Now, she had the upper hand.

Eve smiled. “Marcy, your timing was absolutely
perfect.”

****

Defeat had never tasted so bitter.

Even a double shot of McKinley’s best scotch
couldn’t dilute the taste that formed in Donavan’s mouth the moment Judge
Bishop struck down his gavel in favor of Arthur Langly. By morning, the outcome
of the case would be splashed across the pages of every tabloid in Los Angeles,
alongside his self respect.

He’d lost high profile cases before and bounced
back. In time, the respect of his peers could be restored and his professional
reputation wouldn’t take too much of a hit. Everyone knew that clients lied to
their lawyers, and Harriet Langly had sure pulled a fast one on him. However,
it wasn’t merely the backlash of the Langly case making his temples throb and
his gut churn.

His seductive adversary now owned his ass for the
entire weekend.

“Don’t worry, I’m not a cruel Mistress,” she had
whispered on her way out of the courtroom. “We’ll start slow. Maybe my first
order will be for you to give me a nice long massage. I love a good massage.”

Oh, he had no problem with her wanting him to put
his hands all over that long luscious body. His cock throbbed with the thought.
Since law school, he’d wanted to get his hands on Evelyn Morgan. She was
clever, sassy, and just the right amount devious. Unfortunately, she also
insisted that she was a Mistress. No doubt she would don him in shackles the
first chance she got.

“Fuck.” Donavan tossed back the last of his
scotch then slammed the glass down hard against the bar. “Keep em’ coming.
Hell, just leave the bottle.”

“I hate to say this but getting drunk off your
ass at four o’clock in the afternoon won’t change the fact that you made a
stupid bet, lost, and now have to pay up, my friend.”

Donavan slowly craned his neck left and glared.
Evan Chambers, his oldest friend and confidant, occupied the stool next to him,
offering a sympathetic wince.

“Maybe not,” Donavan agreed. “But, with any luck
I’ll drink myself into a coma so deep there’ll be no possible way Eve can
expect me to follow through with our wager.” He picked up his refilled glass,
tossed it back, and then clenched his teeth as it burned going down.

“If I know Eve, and I think I do, there’s no way
you’re getting out of this one.”

Donavan scowled. Evan was right. He was always
right.

Evan had the ability to read people. That’s
probably what made him such a successful business man. Seven years ago when
Eden opened, Donavan wasn’t entirely convinced Evan had what it took to run his
own business. Soon after, he realized that entrepreneur ran in Chamber’s blood.

“If it’s any consolation,” Evan continued, “I
hear Eve takes very good care of her slaves.”

“Blow me.”

Evan chuckled then took a pull on his beer. “Isn’t
Harriet Langly in her seventies?”

“Seventy-five,” Donavan grumbled. “And as limber
as a goddamn ballerina. You’d think Eve forcing me to watch that sex tape would
be punishment enough.”

“That good, eh?”

“Let’s just say after the scene with the gardener,
I’ll never be able to look at ornamental shrubbery in the same way again.”

Evan laughed harder now, but Donavan’s scowl only
deepened.

This was not how he pictured things transpiring
with Eve. She claimed to be a Mistress, yet her body screamed submissive.
Whenever he whispered naughty, shameless words about taking her in hand, her
lashes always fluttered and her cheeks always flushed. When he cornered her in
a hallway like a lion stalking his prey, excitement lit in her vivid green
eyes. Eve might say she was a Mistress but people lied every day. Physical
reaction didn’t.

Unfortunately his suspicions were neither here
nor there now. He wasn’t a welcher. Whether he liked it or not, tomorrow night
he’d be peeling grapes and giving PG-rated foot massages.

“Mr. Carver? Oh wow, it is you! Small world! How
lucky am I, getting to see you twice in one day?”

Drawn out of his pity party by a small blonde
leaning against the bar, Donavan tried to place her. It could have been the
potency of the scotch, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember who she
was. About five-three, wide blue eyes, pleated plaid skirt and snug white
blouse—not his usual type but there was a period in law school that included
toga’s, bottomless kegs, and a hell of a lot of women.

Donavan glanced at Evan in hopes of a life
preserver, but his friend only arched a brow.

“My apologies, sweetheart, I can’t quite remember
your name.”

“Marcy. Marcy Baxter.” She beamed and gave him a
playful slap on the shoulder but the name didn’t ring any bells. “Ms. Morgan’s
assistant.”

Ms. Morgan’s assistant…Duh.

“Right. Right, Marcy. Of course. Sorry, my head’s
still a bit fuzzy from the case.”

“It’s okay.” She continued to stare and nibble provocatively
on her lower lip. “I’m sorry about the loss.”

“Ah.” Donavan raised his glass. “Happens to the
best of us.”

“True. It could just as easily be Ms. Morgan
sitting here, drowning her sorrows. I had to burn three red lights in order to
get the tape to the courthouse in time. Luckily, I made it with twenty minutes
to spare.”

So this was the woman responsible for the piece
of evidence that would land him on his knees. Fantastic. As her words echoed in
his head again, he creased his brow. Did she say she’d brought the tape with
twenty minutes to spare?

Donavan went ramrod straighten in his chair and
turned to her. Twenty minutes before the recess ended was about the same time
he and Eve were chatting in the hallway.

“Marcy, you said that this is the second time
seeing me today—did you happen to see me at the courthouse?”

“Where else?” She giggled. “Maybe you didn’t see
me. You were talking to Ms. Morgan when I got there.”

Evelyn Morgan…you little
cheat.

“Oh shoot, there’s my order,” Marcy said. “The
fish and chips here are to die for. A bit unhealthy, but you gotta live a
little, right?”

“No point in living if you can’t indulge in the
sinful from time to time.” Donavan offered a polite smile while indulging in the
fantasy of ringing Eve’s slender neck.

“Well, see ya around. It was nice running into
you.”

“You too, Marcy.”
You have no idea how nice.
“Enjoy your dinner.”

When Marcy was out of earshot, Donavan whirled on
Evan. “She played me.”

“So it would seem,” Evan agreed with a chuckle. “Getting
played by two women in one day, how unlike you.”

It certainly was unlike him. The horrifying image
of Harriet Langly in all her glory resurfaced and Donavan flexed his jaw. At
least with Harriet, he had an excuse for lowering his guard—he hardly knew the
woman. But Eve he had known for years. She was calculating and shrewd. Two of
the attributes he most admired about her had come to life and bit him square on
his unsuspecting ass.

“So, are you going to call her on it?” Evan asked
intrigued.

“Oh yes,” he murmured. “But, not just yet.”

“You’ll follow through with the bet then?”

“For now,” he answered.

Donavan had a hard time believing Eve would be as
noble when it came to him collecting on their agreement. As much as he didn’t
like the idea of playing the good slave, he would have to until he got her
alone.

“But, Evelyn Morgan is about to discover that she
isn’t the only one who can play dirty.”